Chapter 41
The morning sun sliced weakly through the gaps in the heavy curtains. Yeonho was still deep in his blankets, buried soundly in the plush mattress.
Beside him, Gyeongjae tossed around a few times, a low groan from Yeonho breaking the quiet.
Slowly blinking his eyes open, Gyeongjae stared up at the ceiling for a moment before shifting his gaze to Yeonho. He slid closer, checking to see if Yeonho was actually waking up.
"Yeonho…" Gyeongjae whispered.
Yeonho merely frowned, completely blind to the world as he pulled a pillow over his face to block out the light.
"Cute…"
Sitting up, Gyeongjae rubbed the sleep from his face, running his fingers through his messy white hair. He realized he had actually stayed the entire night without even bothering to change out of his clothes. He really should have gone upstairs first—his own penthouse was located directly above Yeonho's floor.
He cast one final glance at Yeonho before sliding out of bed, stretching his tight muscles. Reaching for his phone on the nightstand, he dialed one of his personal security guards, instructing them to bring up a fresh set of clothes immediately.
Once the call disconnected, he quietly slipped out of the master bedroom. He made his way down the stairs and straight into the kitchen, pulling a bottle of cold water from the refrigerator to clear his throat.
"Right… the security footage," he muttered to himself.
Setting the glass down on the table, Gyeongjae sat back and pulled up his phone. He verified the logs—every trace of the lobby confrontation last night had been completely wiped from the hotel's main servers and routed securely into his private cloud.
When the sharp chime of the doorbell rang through the suite, Gyeongjae stood up and walked over to the entrance. He opened door open to find his personal bodyguard standing in the hallway.
"Good morning, boss. Here are the clothes you requested." The guard offered a premium garment bag. Gyeongjae took it, but as he prepared to close the door, the guard quickly stepped forward to stop him.
"Wait, boss. There's a situation. The chairman called. He said you need to schedule another date with Ms. Choi immediately to seal the business merger between both families."
Gyeongjae's expression darkened.
"Why are you the one reporting this? Where the hell is Juhyuk?"
"He took a sudden three-week leave, boss. I'm filling in as your temporary assistant until he's back."
Gyeongjae gave a curt nod. The guard's eyes lingered on his boss's wrinkled clothes before tracking the unfamiliar layout of the hallway, quickly realizing they were on an entirely different residential floor.
"Boss… did you relocate? Why are you staying down here? If this is your new penthouse, should I coordinate with the moving team to bring your belongings down?"
Gyeongjae waved his hand dismissively, his tone sharp. "I'm not moving anywhere. You ask too many damn questions. Leave."
"But what am I supposed to say if your father asks why you're occupying a different floor? You know he's going to interrogate me, boss."
Gyeongjae knew exactly how his father operated. The older man was entirely obsessed with maintaining a flawless family reputation; even a minor variable like Gyeongjae sleeping on a different floor could trigger a massive corporate investigation.
"Just drop it and tell him you don't know anything. If he calls me, I'll deal with the explanation myself."
The guard nodded, bowing low before stepping back. Gyeongjae shut the door, locking it securely.
Realizing there wasn't a single thing to eat for breakfast, he walked back toward the kitchen, only to find Yeonho already on his feet. Yeonho looked incredibly sluggish, washing his hands under the tap with slow, lazy movements.
Gyeongjae leaned against the kitchen counter, watching quietly as Yeonho navigated toward the refrigerator, his blue eyes still half open.
"You're up," Gyeongjaepulled out a chair and rest his arm along the tabletop.
Still completely exhausted, Yeonho cracked open a bottle of cold water, drinking it right in front of the open refrigerator door. His body felt weak, his limbs heavy and tracking a dull, persistent headache behind his temples.
The violent nosebleed and physical collapse at the park last night were definitely leaving an aftereffect. Logically, he should have just forced himself to rest instead of initiating that chaotic bedroom session, but he simply couldn't pass it up. It had been the absolute perfect opportunity to accelerate his plans, and it had worked flawlessly on both Gyeongjae and Min-Hyuk.
A minor headache and a weak body were a very small price to pay for that level of progress.
Closing the refrigerator door, Yeonho turned around slowly, squinting through the glare of the kitchen lights. He slipped a black hair tie off his wrist, lazily gathering his long blonde hair into a thoroughly messy bun. Only then did he notice Gyeongjae approaching him.
"…Why are you still here?" Yeonho mumbled. He rubbed his blurry eyes, his voice raspy.
Gyeongjae stood directly in front of him, finding the Yeonho's uncharacteristic calmness, messy vulnerability surprisingly endearing.
Slowly, he lifted his hand, trailing a finger gently along Yeonho's cheek to see if his color had returned. It hadn't—Yeonho's eyes were still incredibly tired and heavily shadowed.
"Don't do anything reckless today. Just stay in bed. You're still pale," Gyeongjae rumbled. He pulled back, grabbing his phone from the table to place a direct call down to the hotel's room service kitchen.
Yeonho blinked, thoroug the daze. He still couldn't entirely wrap his head around the fact that Gyeongjae was behaving so protectively toward him. He silently listened as Gyeongjae barked orders to the kitchen staff.
"Bring up a full breakfast spread to the same suite as last night. Make sure everything is specifically tailored for recovery. I want high-nutrient dishes."
[ Understood, Mr. Woo. We will have it delivered within ten minutes ] The manager answered.
The call ended. Gyeongjae turned to exit the kitchen, pausing to glance back over his shoulder.
"I'm going to change and wash up. We eat in ten minutes." With that, Gyeongjae vanished up the stairs.
Left alone in the quiet kitchen, Yeonho let out a big yawn, covering his mouth with his palm. Just then, a faint, rhythmic vibration echoed from the upper floor.
"What's that?" He listened closely, quickly realizing his phone was still sitting on the nightstand upstairs. He dragged himself up the steps and checked the display.
It was Jiseok. The old man already left eight missed calls. Hurrying back down the stairs to avoid Gyeongjae, Yeonho collapsed onto the living room sofa, waiting out the silence until the phone inevitably began to vibrate in his palm once more. He swiped to answer.
"Good morning, Mr. Han…" Yeonho murmured, stifling another yawn.
[ You sound tired, dear. What happened? Did you actually rest and eat after I left? ]
"I did, but the second your car pulled away last night, my body just gave out. I had a nosebleed. Luckily, Gyeongjae was there to help me out."
An immediate, suffocating silence descended over the line, and Yeonho instantly realized he had made a tactical error by casually dropping Gyeongjae's name into the conversation.
"Please don't get jealous. Gyeongjae was literally the only person available to help me. You were the one who ditched me on the sidewalk… Don't get angry, Mr. Han..."
[ I am not angry, dear. Your physical health is always my top priority. Since your condition is clearly deteriorating, I am dispatching a select group of my personal staff to your suite immediately to help you. ]
"Wait, Mr. Han, that's really not—"
[ Or would you prefer I order the private jet to fly you directly back to Russia, dear? ]
Jiseok's voice dropped, laced with a quiet, controlling edge.
[ Your health seems to suffer the longer you stay in Korea. Have you completely forgotten the state of your mental stability? ]
Yeonho went entirely silent, sitting up straight on the cushions. The warning hit a nerve.
He had only been back in Korea for a little over a week, and his physical collapse last night was already proof of the toll it was taking.
But fleeing back to Russia wasn't an option. He had to stay to dismantle the original plotline and completely destroy the novel.
He promised himself he would act as the absolute villain this novel deserved.
Besides, that agonizing flash of memory last night had cost him a physical collapse, but the information was valuable.
Yeonho let out a sigh.
"I'm completely fine, Mr. Han, don't worry."
[ You're not fine. I know exactly how your body reacts under stress. Don't forget who spent months rehabilitating you in Russia, dear.]
"I know, but I can handle this. I can't leave yet. I already told you—I have to finish this. I need to force my family to watch me succeed so they know I'm not crawling in the dirt just because they threw me out."
[You made your point clear. Fine. Just ensure you don't wander out too much, or I will personally drag you back to Russia myself.]
"Yes, Mr. Han. Once I wrap everything up here, I'll give you as much of my time as you want."
[ That's good hear. Now my people will arrive at your door in a few minutes. I am hanging up now. ]
The call disconnected.
Yeonho leaned his head back against the sofa cushions, staring blankly up at the ceiling.
Jiseok was thousands of miles away in Russia, yet the old man was still managing to drop a leash right around his neck.
It was suffocating, but Yeonho couldn't deny the underlying help. Initially, Jiseok's obsessive surveillance had driven him crazy because he feared Yeonho might runaway, but the older man's immense resources an hell were the only reason Yeonho had a leg to stand on in Korea.
Han Jiseok was proving to be the ultimate asset. Without his black card and political backing, executing this revenge plot would be completely impossible. But Yeonho knew he couldn't survive on Jiseok's dime forever; if he kept using the old man's funds, he will run out of money to use.
"Sounds like Han Jiseok's completely obsessed watching you..."
The sudden voice made Yeonho snap his head around. Gyeongjae was standing quietly by the edge of the hallway, having clearly witnessed the entire phone call.
He had just come out of the shower, a pristine white towel wrapped casually around his waist while leaving his muscular upper body completely exposed, showcasing the intricate tattoos mapping his chest and abs.
"You seriously just stood there and eavesdropped on my call?"
"Of course I did," Gyeongjae replied smoothly.
He walked lazily toward the sofa, using a smaller towel to dry his damp white hair.
Yeonho's eyes instantly tracked the movement, his gaze sliding down the sharp cuts of Gyeongjae's abdominal muscles down to the prominent V-line disappearing beneath the low-hung towel.
Gyeongjae came to a halt right at the edge of the sofa, continuing to rub the towel through his damp hair.
"You're staring pretty hard."
"Do I need permission to look?" Yeonho raised an eyebrow, a familiar, cocky smirk returning to his lips. "What?"
Gyeongjae let out a low exhale through his nose, his chest expanding. Dropping the towel onto the armrest. He sat next to Yeonho.
"What actually happened between you and your family? Especially with Hana? I know you have a completely toxic reputation in public—literally everyone in Korea thinks you're an absolute trash. But I'm starting to think there's a side to this story that no one's bothered to listen to."
Gyeongjae wasn't stupid. Hana had cried in front of him about Yeonho's alleged cruelty, and Gyeongjae had bought into the narrative completely.
But ever since Yeonho had returned from Russia, the rumors didn't align with his reality.
Hana's perfect facade was showing massive fractures, while Yeonho was proving to have far more depth than the media let on.
Listening to both sides was simple, especially when evidence was involved.
As Gyeongjae's thoughts began to drift, he suddenly realized Yeonho's face was mere inches from his own, a pale hand waving playfully in front of his eyes.
"Hello? Earth to Gyeongjae? What could you possibly be overthinking so hard that you're completely zoning out?"
"You" Gyeongjae muttered
"Funny. If you keep acting like that, I might just have to give you a real distraction," Yeonho teased.
He formed a suggestive circle with his thumb and index finger, sliding a his tongue through the hole.The blatant, dirty hand sign made Gyeongjae shake his head in disbelief.
"Is sex all you think about?"
"If that's what gets you going, sure. But don't flatter yourself—I have high standards. You're lucky you happened to meet the requirements," Yeonho giggled.
With a sudden surge of energy, Yeonho shoved Gyeongjae back against the sofa cushions with a soft thud. He quickly scrambled up to climbed on Gyeongjae's lap, his hands immediately clamping over the damp towel covering the heavy length between Gyeongjae's thighs.
Gyeongjae's breath hitched, his eyes darkening.
"You're supposed to be sick. Can you stop being so completely impulsive and vulgar for five seconds?"
"Not a chance when you're sitting right in front of me looking like this," Yeonho grinned, his fingers lightly tracing the contours of Gyeongjae's bare chest.
"You absolute brat…" Gyeongjae rumbled.
Yeonho leaned in close, his tongue darting out to lazily lick across Gyeongjae's lower lip before letting out a soft, delighted giggle.
Gyeongjae's large hands reflexively slid down to Yeonho's lower back, his palms holding Yeonho firmly against his thighs.
Yeonho pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, deliberately shifting his hips to grind down against Gyeongjae's lap, ensuring his bare buttocks frictioned hard against the swelling heat beneath the towel.
"You act like a total cat in heat every single time," Gyeongjae growled, his hands sliding from Yeonho's waist down to grip his thighs, completely giving into the rhythm.
"Do you want to do it? Yeonho asked as he keeps grinding.
"You're asking when you're already doing it yourself"
The friction between them escalated rapidly, the raw heat spreading through the living room as they traded heavy breaths—but the sudden, loud chime of the doorbell completely shattered the momentum.
Yeonho stopped moving, rolling his eyes in absolute frustration.
"Are you fucking kidding me? Again?"
Gyeongjae let out a low laugh at the Yeonho's irritated expression. "I'll get it."
"No, I got it," Yeonho snapped, climbing off Gyeongjae's lap and storming toward the front door in a foul mood. Gyeongjae stood up behind him, a small, amused smile playing on his lips as he followed. He leaned his shoulder against the hallway door frame, watching with an exposed chest.
The moment Yeonho swung the front door open, his eyes went wide.
"Good morning, Mistress. We have arrived safely—!"
Standing in the corridor was Freya, dressed in a pristine, casual silk outfit. She was the head servant of Jiseok's elite household in Russia.
Standing directly beside her was Carl, a towering, broad-shouldered man in a tailored tactical suit—the exact operative Jiseok had assigned as Yeonho's personal bodyguard during his exile in Russia.
Freya's greeting cut off abruptly as her eyes traveled past Yeonho's shoulder, locking onto the striking white-haired man covered in tattoos standing entirely topless in the background.
"Freya?! What the hell are you doing here? Don't tell me Mr. Han actually flew you out?" Yeonho stammered.
"Yes, Mistress. The master ordered me to manage your household and care for you since your health is failing. Carl has been reassigned to handle your local security details as well."
Freya hesitated for a fraction of a second, her eyes darting back to the imposing figure behind Yeonho.
"May I ask who this gentleman is?"
Yeonho glanced back at Gyeongjae before looking Freya dead in the eye.
"He's someone very close to me."
"Why the is he entirely topless?" Carl asked, eyes narrowing into a hostile as he sized Gyeongjae up.
"Why? Got a problem with that?" Gyeongjae fired back, tilting his chin up in defiance, instantly loathing the operative's arrogant tone.
Yeonho quickly slapped his palm against Gyeongjae's bare chest, keeping his focus locked on the arrivals.
"Gyeongjae, drop it. Don't start a fight."
"Mistress, are you certain this man is merely a close acquaintance? Is he not one of your regular high-paying clients? Is your schedule already fully booked in Korea?" Freya inquired, her tone entirely matter-of-fact.
Yeonho's jaw dropped, and he vigorously shook his head to stop her. Behind him, Gyeongjae's entire demeanor turned incredibly cold, his eyes locking onto the back of Yeonho's head.
"Client? Schedule? What the is she talking about, Yeonho?"
"Sir, is he not a client, Mistress?" Freya pressed, looking thoroughly confused.
"Shut up, both of you. Get inside before you draw the entire floor's attention," Yeonho whispered. It was eight in the morning, and guests were already beginning to traverse the hallway.
Freya and Carl quickly stepped inside, walking past Gyeongjae into the expansive living room, with Yeonho and Gyeongjae trailing right behind them.
As they walked, Gyeongjae leaned down, his voice dropping into a dangerous whisper.
"Yeonho. Explain what that woman means. What regular clients? What work are you doing?"
"You either already know the answer to that, or not. Just keep your mouth shut and behave for five minutes"
Gyeongjae clenched his teeth but ultimately listened.
Yeonho took a seat on the leather sofa beside Gyeongjae, while Freya and Carl remained standing at attention on the marble floor.
"Sit down, both of you. Why are you standing there like statues?" Yeonho ordered.
"Understood, Mistress," Freya murmured, bowing slightly before she and Carl took the opposite armchairs.
Gyeongjae immediately took the initiative, crossing one leg over the other and resting his arm authoritatively along the back of the sofa.
"You both speak Korean. Are you native?"
"We are both half-Korean and half-Russian, sir," Freya answered respectfully, her eyes subtly scanning the upscale interior of the suite.Yeonho cut in, looking at the head servant.
"Freya, when exactly did your flight touch down in Seoul?"
"Late last night, Mistress. The master arranged everything the moment your condition was reported."
"Unbelievable…" Yeonho muttered, shaking his head.
"May I formally request this gentleman's name, Mistress?" Freya asked.
"His name is Gyeongjae," Yeonho stated smoothly, a wicked glint returning to his eyes.
"He's my boyfriend."
Gyeongjae's head snapped toward Yeonho so fast his white hair swayed, his dark eyes widening in absolute shock.
All three individuals in the room shared the exact same paralyzed reaction.
"What?" Gyeongjae choked out, completely dumbfounded.
"Pardon me?" Freya blinked, certain she had misheard the translation.
"Excuse me, what did you just say?" Carl growled, his knuckles whitening against his knees.
The collective shock was absolutely priceless. Seeing Gyeongjae's aggressive, dominant expression instantly crumble into utter bewilderment was the funniest thing Yeonho had witnessed all week.
He internally wanted to burst out laughing and tell them it was all a game, but he chose to double down on the deception, locking his gaze onto Freya.
"You heard me perfectly fine the first time. He's my boyfriend." Yeonho flashed a brilliant, flawless smile while Gyeongjae simply stared at him in total silence, his brain completely short-circuiting.
Carl's jaw clenched so hard the muscles in his neck pulsed—a reaction Gyeongjae's sharp instincts registered immediately.
Freya blinked rapidly, attempting to process the sudden corporate nightmare.
"Does the master know about this development, Mistress?"
"Of course. I've already slept with Gyeongjae, and Mr. Han knows it," Yeonho stated dismissively.
Freya offered a slow nod of acceptance, operating under the assumption that her master hadn't ordered a hit on Gyeongjae yet, it must be part of the arrangement.
"I see. So, Mr. Gyeongjae, are you acting as an exclusive client or a romantic partner? And Mistress, do you have an upcoming session scheduled for your next assignment? Should I proceed to your wardrobe and select the lingerie for the next individual you are sleeping with?"
Yeonho immediately face-palmed, cursing Freya's complete lack of common sense.
Jiseok had clearly deployed her and Carl straight from Moscow without briefing them on the details—only that Yeonho had collapsed.
Surely, they still think Yeonho was working as prostitute even here in Korea.
Beside him, Gyeongjae's hands instantly balled into tight, white-knuckled fists at Freya's casual inquiry.
He turned a completely freezing, murderous glare onto Yeonho. The dark rumors floating around Korea about Yeonho operating as a high-end prostitute during his exile in Russia weren't just fabrications—they were absolute facts.
Hearing the explicit confirmation directly from the mouth of Yeonho's own staff triggered a savage, toxic possessiveness in Gyeongjae's chest that he didn't fully comprehend.
The raw, disgusting image of Yeonho tangled up in satin sheets, moaning under different wealthy men made Gyeongjae's blood boil with an intense, violent irritation.
Just as Yeonho opened his mouth to scramble for an explanation to fix the misunderstanding, the loud chime of the suite's doorbell rang through the tense silence once again.
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